


It's What You Take From It

by tasteofhysteria (orphan_account)



Category: Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: MINI CAMEOS, Primo talks are very serious business, They never will, They still don't like Julio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tasteofhysteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think maybe,” Argentina said, “you’re doing that thing you always do.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's What You Take From It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryuuzakiroth](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ryuuzakiroth).



“Do you ever think,” Sebástian said suddenly, “that we’re a bit too much like teenagers than is good for us?”

Martín blinked and lifted his gaze away from the game of Bejeweled on his phone, head cozily rested in his cousin’s lap to stare at Sebástian quizzically.

“I just think maybe we put a little too much stock into some things that aren’t going to matter much in a few weeks or months or years,” Uruguay continued calmly. “It’s a bit too much for me. And get off of me, you’re in the way.”

“You’re only reading a book,” Martín disagreed easily, settling back in with a contented sigh. He lined up a few rows of diamonds and squares before pausing his game and setting his phone aside on the magazine-strewn coffee table. With a slight effort, he shifted to lie on his side and wrapped his arms around Sebástian’s waist with a smug grin.

“You’re thinking such heavy thoughts, primo,” he cooed teasingly. Uruguay stared down at him with a raised brow before sighing and rolling his eyes.

“I think maybe,” Argentina said, “you’re doing that thing you always do.”

“You’re capable of thought _?_ ” Uruguay asked flatly. Argentina made a face and tsked quietly.

“You know, you’re pretty smart. Not as smart as I am, but you’re intelligent. At the same time, you’re late to everything important.”

“I make a point of being punctual, primo.”

“Not  _those_ kind of important things, idiot.  _These_  kind of important things.” He gave Uruguay a poke to the chest, just above the other’s heart. Sebástian stared at him blankly for a moment before a look of realization flickered through his eyes. Just as suddenly, his face was wiped into its customary expression of easy complacency.

“I didn’t really take you to be the sentimental type, Martín.”

“Yes, well,” Argentina sighed expansively and tightened his grip on Uruguay’s middle reflexively. “It’s amazing what spending too much time with Brazilians will do to you.”

Sebástian’s lips quirked up in a half smile at the irony of that particular statement. He had only just turned his gaze back to his book when Argentina spoke again.

“This is about Dani and the boliviano, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t.” Sebástian replied serenely.

“Of course it is. You should stop being such an idiot about it.”

Sebástian turned a page.

“Stop being such an idiot about it,” Martín repeated.

“I thought we both agreed to look after Dani,” Sebástian spoke mildly, eyes still attentively locked on his page in the book but not moving to read the words. “Did that change without someone informing me or was I  _late_  to the meeting that entailed those particular details?”

“I’m starting to think that he’s going to do what he wants, regardless of what we say,” Martín mumbled into Sebástian’s stomach. “But he’s still my cousin so I’m still going to look after him. He should be more grateful that I’m devoting this much time to his wellbeing. But that’s just me. What about you?”

Sebástian’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as he peered down at Argentina.

“What  _about_  me?” he asked.

“It’s not the same for you anymore, primo. It hasn’t been for a long time.” Martín said simply.

The book was closed quietly. Sebástian leaned slightly forward and set it down by Martín’s illuminated phone with barely a sound. Somehow the action seemed to drain the energy out of him and he sat hunched over his cousin’s shoulder with a grim smile.

“I guess I’m trying,” he murmured, “to reconcile the point between respecting someone’s wishes and wanting to keep them safe. I’ve done one thing for so long that I’m not really sure how to do the other and it’s left me in an awkward place.”

Argentina bit the inside of his cheek and stared straight ahead at the crooked line of buttons trailing down Uruguay’s shirt.

“He was in love with you, Sebás.”

“I know.”

“But it wasn’t the same for you then. Sort of like now.”

“Now is different.”

“You still took advantage of the situation back then though.”

Sebástian flinched. Martín tightened his hold on him again.

“You lost your chance, primo. That’s really all there is to it. You’ll have to be fine with the way things are.”

There was a long silence in the interim between Argentina’s words and Uruguay’s next breath. Suddenly he straightened up, adjusted his glasses, and time went on.

“You’re always telling me things I already know.”

Because he  _did_ already know. Martín made simple statements into grand pronouncements as if it would reveal the meaning of the world and make everything fall into place.

It wasn’t a sad sentiment.

It was just a reiteration of status quo.

_This is how things are and this is how things are going to stay._


End file.
